


A Promise

by baxterthedrake



Category: Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5886067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baxterthedrake/pseuds/baxterthedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending to Season 2, Episode 23: "The Abduction: Part 1." Michaela grapples with the emotional aftermath of the sexual assault she endured at the hands of the Dog Soldiers and fears it will change how Sully looks at her. Sully must accept that he couldn't protect her. Lots of conversation and fluff around how they each navigate their shame, fears, and love for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise

He stared fixedly at her feet, his intense avoidance at odds with the tender way her cleaned her cuts and scrapes. Her mind and heart were still racing with adrenaline and fear, and for once Michaela was at a loss for words.  
  
Without turning his head, Sully asked softly, "Did they hurt you?" Clearly he wasn't asking about feet run ragged or saddle sores.

Her breath caught in her throat as anguished sounds and painful sensations rushed back to her memory. Instinctively she pulled her legs out of his grasp and curled into a ball, burying her face in her arms. She heard Sully move, felt his hand on her shoulder, but she shied away.

Seeing her fear, he pulled his hand away and inhaled deeply. Grief for her, for what she had endured, turned into shame as he wondered how he could have let this happen.

"Michaela, I'm so sorry." His voice broke. "I should have--if I had only . . . I failed you."  
  
At that, she opened her eyes, though she couldn't bring herself to look at him.  
  
"Are you," Sully began tentatively. "That is, does it--does it still hurt? Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
She took a deep breath and let the air release in a long, shuddery sigh. When she finally turned to look at him, she found herself searching his eyes for any sign of anger or judgment, any warning that his opinion of her was forever changed. But all she saw was pain in his eyes, remorse, and deep concern.  
  
It was easier to focus on him than to acknowledge the trauma roiling inside of her. So she murmured, "This isn't your fault. If it weren't for you, they might still--" Her resolve broke then, and she curled more tightly into herself, fingers digging into her skin as she tried to hold back her terror.  
  
At that, his resolve broke, and he let out a ragged breath that was almost a sob. Michaela looked up to see Sully's fists clenched and eyes tightly closed as he tried to hide his emotion. It scared her to see him like this, to see him struggling so fiercely against his hurt. It never occurred to her that he felt the same about her. She found herself reaching out to him and resting a hand on his forearm. He opened his eyes, and she saw tears there even as he extended his other arm towards her with an unspoken question.  
  
Worries of what he felt and how he might view her now became irrelevant as she fell into his embrace. She cried against his shoulder, careful to stay safely quiet even as fear and loss and pain flowed out of her. Though he made no sound, she could feel Sully's body shaking, his shoulders and torso trembling with rage and grief. But soon he stilled, and gentle hands smoothed her hair away from her face and then lightly brushed across her arms and back. She realized he was being careful, holding her delicately so as not to frighten her, and his compassion made her cry even harder.  
  
In time, her tears slowed, and Sully began slowly rocking from side to side while humming a tune to her. Though she couldn't quite place the melody, it sounded English, and she allowed herself to be distracted by the gentle reverberations of his lullaby.

 

* * *

  
  
A few weeks later, he found her walking along the hills near her home. She never strayed out of eyesight of the homestead these days, but she still jumped in alarm when she turned to see him watching her.  
  
"You'll frighten a woman half to death, sneaking up like that." Her tone was light, but she couldn't hide her discomfort. Things hadn't been the same between them since he'd carried her back to Colorado Springs those weeks ago. She couldn't tell if he was avoiding her, or the other way around. They were polite, and he visited the family for supper now and again, but he left as soon as the children went to their rooms. And beyond a polite handshake, he hadn't touched her.  
  
"I didn't think I'd find you all the way out here." He joined her stride, walking with her along the hill crest.  
  
"I'm trying to not live in so much fear anymore." She hadn't expected to be so honest, but then, who could understand better than him? And then she flushed in embarrassment, for she wasn't sure she could count on his understanding anymore.  
  
Michaela wasn't one to hide from difficult things. A good doctor faces problems head on, evaluates the risks, and takes action to save the patient. Or to save herself.  
  
"I think we ought to stop courting, Sully."  
  
When he didn't respond, she turned to see him stopped in his tracks a few paces behind her. To her horror, she saw real alarm on his face. But that couldn't be. Where had his alarm been these past weeks as he faded from her life?  
  
"Come now, Sully, you don't need to protect me. We barely see each other anymore. I won't hold you to something you don't want."  
  
"What makes you think I don't want this?"  
  
She closed her eyes but kept her voice cold and even. "Please don't. What happened in those hills--I understand that that's an insurmountable barrier."  
  
He took a cautious step towards her. "I don't see how anything has to change."  
  
"We were courting, Sully. There was at least a chance of marriage. I can't help but wonder if you could bear the thought of marrying a woman who is--who isn't..."  
  
He stepped toward her and grasped her shoulders. "No. Don't you ever think that."  
  
She pulled away from his grasp. "Can you honestly say it hasn't changed things between us?"  
  
"Not like that, it hasn't."  
  
"You've been distant, cold even. What else can I think than that you see me differently now?"  
  
He sighed, his gaze downcast. Taking his silence as confirmation, a cold loneliness washed over Michaela, and she turned to walk away.  
  
Before she'd taken three strides, she felt a hand grasping her elbow, and she gasped in startled fear before turning to see Sully. Who else could it have been? And how could he know such movements brought painful memories flooding back, of strangers' hands pushing, gripping, treating her like an object?  
  
"I was afraid," he blurted out. "I was afraid you blamed me, and truth is, I blamed myself. How can I keep on courting you, how can I think of marrying you, when I didn't keep you safe? Aren't you angry with me?"  
  
She shook her head, beginning to understand. "No, Sully. I'm not angry with you. It's never been your job to keep me safe, though you've done it time and time again. Besides, in the end you did protect me. I'd be dead by now without you."  
  
He gave her a sad smile, but he didn't step closer, or pull her into his arms, or even kiss her cheek. She sighed, steeling herself to push ahead to face the worst. "But even so, it seems things have changed."  
  
With a hint of desperation, he protested, "What do you want, Michaela? How can I show you I love you?"  
  
She cast her eyes about for help, for support of some kind. A few steps brought her to a fallen tree trunk, where she sat down to sort through the feelings racing through her body.  
  
Sully knelt at her feet, his head barely reaching her shoulder. She placed her head in her hands, hating that she felt so weak, hating the tears that began falling down her cheeks. "I want to go back to how we were before all this. I want to see your face when you hold me, or take my hand, or just before you kiss me. I want to know that you still . . ."   
  
"--that I still want you?" He asked the question softly, but his eyes were intent on her.  
  
She let out a heavy sigh and fidgeted with her skirt, betraying her nerves. Sully reached out to enfold her hands in his, and he stroked his thumbs gently along her wrists.  
  
"I think I see it now, why there's this wall between us." He took a deep breath. "I wasn't just afraid you blamed me. I was--I am--afraid that I'll frighten you." She glanced up at him, but he pressed on. "When I hold you or kiss you, what if I'm not gentle enough? What if I make you remember? So I've been careful, trying not to stir up old hurts, or make even a part of you wonder if I would ever hurt you too."  
  
She believed him. There was enough fear in his eyes that she didn't doubt his honesty. He lifted her hands and kissed each palm and each wrist, his eyes never leaving hers. Relief washed over her then, and she began crying in earnest. He looked on in alarm, but she smiled through the tears and pulled him to her side. "I'm all right, truly. I was just so afraid I'd lost you." And she wrapped his arms around her, feeling him sigh in relief as he held her and kissed her head.  
  
Sully hitched an arm under her knees and lifted her into his lap, and she twined her fingers in his hair as she rested her chin on his shoulder. They sat like that for a while, until he pulled away enough to ask, "Michaela, may I kiss you?"  
  
She gazed at him for a moment, taking in the details of his face: His kind eyes, awash with desire and concern and love; his strong nose and firm chin; his soft lips, slightly parted in anticipation. And she answered by lowering her mouth to his.  
  
He was gentle, as he'd always been, but this time he lingered. His lips moved slowly, carefully against hers, caressing her into breathless stillness. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, and then returned gently to her mouth. To her surprise, she felt her lips part against his, felt her tongue slide shyly against his lips. He returned the caress, his tongue just as gentle, and she surprised herself by gasping and then releasing a shy moan.  
  
He pulled away then, a question in his eyes. Michaela blushed, but he smiled and kissed her nose. "Don't be embarrassed, love. You've nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
She laughed softly. "I don't know that my mother would share your opinion."  
  
He grinned. "Then it's a good thing she's all the way in Boston."  
  
It felt so good to smile with him, to laugh. She took a deep breath, thinking of their conversation, their fears and worries finally shared. Looking solemn once more, she whispered, "You don't need to be afraid, Sully. Nothing you do could remind me of--"  
  
He held her tightly then, gently pulling her head against his shoulder, and she felt his chest rise and fall against hers.   
  
"I want to promise you something," he whispered. She nodded against his shoulder, not ready yet to look him in the eye. "This ain't a proposal, because I don't think you're ready to face that question yet. But if I ever was fortunate enough to marry you, and to share a bed with you, I promise you I would be just as gentle as we are now. We would take things slow, and if you ever felt scared or anxious, all you'd have to do is say the word, and I'd listen."  
  
She inhaled sharply at his boldness, but as the honesty and fairness of his promise sunk in, she found herself blinking back more tears. "Thank you," she whispered.  
  
They sat like that for a few more moments. Then Michaela opened her eyes and realized that dusk was falling after all. She rose to her feet and held her hand out to Sully. He smiled, taking her hand in his, and walked her back to the homestead.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So as sweet as this episode was, I was perturbed at the look of relief that crossed Sully and Michaela's faces when he asks, "Did they hurt you?" and she says, "No." I read that question as a veiled query about whether or not Michaela had been raped, because obviously she'd been hurt in various other ways. And I felt that her response was a bit of a copout. Wouldn't it be more interesting to see how their relationship would progress if they had to cope with her assault? Wouldn't that be more realistic? (At least in the sense that sexual violence is heartbreakingly common; I'm not making any generalizations about the Cheyenne and white women.) Plus I was a bit annoyed with just how alpha Sully was in this entire episode. I'm far less interested in perfect heroes who pull off all the rescues than I am with realistic, complex people who can't dodge every bullet (literally) or avoid every heartbreak. How they recover is so much more interesting and cathartic. So here's my headcannon for how this should have ended.


End file.
